


An illness that comes and goes

by Fatale (femme)



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-27
Updated: 2006-06-27
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:33:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femme/pseuds/Fatale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House knew there was something wrong the moment Wilson cancelled dinner. It wasn’t that Wilson wasn't popular - he was in his own way, especially with the OR nurses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An illness that comes and goes

An illness that comes and goes  
House/Wilson, PG  
WC: 1213  
A/N: I made up stuff in this fic, you know, more than the gayness. Cuddy has a new secretary and Wilson is in some kinda relationship.

 

 

 

House knew there was something wrong the moment Wilson cancelled dinner. It wasn’t that Wilson wasn't popular - he was in his own way, especially with the OR nurses.

He was plenty charming and good-looking enough to make friends, he just couldn't seem to keep them. There was something almost repellent about him: A kind of willingness to go along with House's crazy ideas that spoke volumes about his own moral ambiguity, the way he lied so effortlessly, the way he backtracked on obligations.

It was why House liked him.

 

***

 

He sat the phone back down on the cradle and bit his lip, thinking. Wilson was busy boffing Cuddy's new receptionist - wait, personal assistant - but she was out for the week on some kind of family business. He knew because he only waited for Cuddy to finish her meetings when the secretary didn't close her legs all the way, affording him a nice look up her skirt when he sat in the waiting chairs across from her desk.

With the secretary gone, he didn’t have a reason to wait, so he barged right the hell in like usual. Boy, that time he walked in on Cuddy changing was uncomfortable. For _her_.

So unless Wilson was cheating on his current mistress (which would be a new low, even for him) House didn't know what Wilson could be doing without him.

But he'd find out.

 

***

 

"So, Jimmy," House said, sitting at his table without asking permission.

Wilson gave him that funny look like he knew House had an angle, but he couldn't figure out what it was.

House tapped his cane against the table in a way that he knew pissed Wilson off. "Jimmy" - _tap_ \- "Jimmy" - _tap_ \- "Jimmy."

"What?" Wilson asked, his left eye twitching along with the taps.

He looked irritated. Oops.

"What’s so important that you'd cancel dinner with me?"

"I told you that I had a meeting."

House leaned forward and plucked a crouton off Wilson's salad and popped it in his mouth. "Your lips say a meeting, but you planner says you met with the rep two days ago. Try again."

“House,” Wilson spluttered, “you broke into my office?”

“And this surprises you why?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I thought you respected me or at least respected my privacy. But look who I’m talking to.”

“I didn’t really break in,” House said, munching on another crouton noisily. “I just used a paperclip to pick the lock.” He paused. “You should probably invest in better security.”

Wilson stood up. “You’re an ass,” he said, picking up his tray. “And stay out of my office.”

“Hey,” House called after him. “Can you leave the salad?”

 

***

 

Since Wilson didn’t want him in his office, that just meant there was something he didn’t want House to find.

If he had Wilson paged to the fifth floor, then that left him a solid fifteen minutes in his office because Wilson was too nice to not say hi to the thirty nurses he passed.

“Paging Dr. Wilson -”

House waited, cleverly camouflaged behind a potted plant until he saw Wilson leave his office and lock the door behind him. He crept up, the paper clip at the ready and slipped it into the keyhole. A few minutes of prodding - god, sometimes he was really grateful for Foreman, even if he wasn’t any fun - and he was in.

First, he headed for the desk. He could check the computer, but he didn’t know the password and he didn’t have the time to guess.

He eyed the drawers before pulling one open at random. Okay, Wilson had an unhealthy fixation on Rubik’s Cubes. Interesting in Wilson’s own little anal-retentive way, but not helpful.

The second drawer had an alarming amount of chewed up pens and two tickets to the theatre. Well. Unless Broadway had begun showing _Monster Trucks, The Musical!_ then Wilson had a date.

 

***

 

“You have a date,” House said, leaning back in the chair facing Wilson’s desk. The statement had a more accusing edge to it than House would have liked.

“You broke into my office again,” Wilson observed wearily, closing the door behind him. “And I suppose that page was from you?”

“They needed someone to sterilize the rectal thermometers.”

“Thank you for that, House, really.”

“So this date-”

“Is none of your business.”

House’s eyebrows shot up. “Not even a denial anymore.”

“Why should I? I know you know.”

“I know you know I know,” House countered.

Wilson sighed, leaned against the front of his desk and crossed his arms. “You’re not going to drop this until I tell you about it?”

House pretended to be deep in thought. “Do you think I’ll drop it?”

“It’s with a nurse, Shelley.”

“Bzzzt! Try again.”

Wilson’s arms flew out in a stunning display of complete loss of self-control. “What do you mean, try again?”

“If it was Shelley, I’d have heard all about it. You like telling me about your conquests, so that brings me to the conclusion that it’s someone you’re ashamed of. Is it Cuddy? Cameron? The old lady that hands out teddy bears in the pediatrics ward? Come on, you can tell me if dentures do it for you.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re hiding something.”

" _It’s Kyle, okay?_ " Wilson sucked in a breath and his eyes got big.

House blinked. “You’re going on a date with Kyle? That dweeb from accounting?”

“You don’t even care that I’m dating a man, just that he’s a dweeb?”

“You could do better,” House said.

“Who did you have in mind, House? Please, do tell.”

“Me.”

“You?”

House felt very pleased with himself. He was obviously the best choice for Wilson if Wilson had to get his chuckles from other men. House was the best choice for _everything_ , unless it was clinic duty. “Why not?”

“Because you’re straight?”

House noticed that often people tended to make statements sound like questions around him, probably because he confused them so.

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t?”

“I could be gay,” House said, thoughtfully.

“You don’t know?”

“What is this, twenty questions? I could be gay, if I wanted to.”

“Do you want to?” Wilson asked carefully.

“Will you cancel your date with Clyde?”

“Kyle,” Wilson corrected. “And not if this is just your weird possessive streak coming out. You know, you suddenly want me because you can’t have me.”

“Maybe,” House said, “maybe I suddenly want you because I finally know I can have you.” He stood up, trying to get on some kind of even ground. “What’s the diagnosis?”

Wilson sucked in a breath. “I thought you were the diagnostician.”

House shook his head. “Not this time. I can only present the symptoms.”

Wilson licked his lips nervously. “Can I recommend treatment?”

“Going to treat without a diagnosis? I hear that's dangerous.”

“We’ll know if the symptoms go away.”

“What if new ones come up?”

Wilson was drawing close to House, close enough for House to feel his breath ghosting over his cheek, close enough for him to feel the warm slide of lips against his.

“We’ll deal with those as they come,” Wilson murmured.

 

 

 

THE END.

 


End file.
